Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Just read Sabina`s latest blog entry about the best thing online. Messages, she says. Pictures follow immediately.Experience shows that the most glorious and the most calamitous moments in my life have been texted online. I`ve fallen victim of the age I live in. I memorise passwords. I stalk. I know what people`s daily routines are. What topping they use for their cereals. What wicked events they attend. I know my own life is mirrored by my friend lists and realise how dependent I am on mirrors of various kinds.The excitement provoked by the Inbox(1) is often incomparable to what you may see in the message. Revelation may hit you like fast train. Truth IS a fast train, so fast it can be evasive. Driving a train into the heart of a desolate station brings along noxious reverberations.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Being busy is absolutely mandatory when things get as exciting as a brick wall. Having survived a week of complete brain-suction and ever-so-growing disappointment with people, aka virtual friends, I`ve decided to unfriend virtuality. I wish to become more reality-focused. Two things I cannot overlook - envy and copyright vioaltion. Both can be extensively observed on our newsfeed and I am sure if Jesus gave a shit about human comfort, he would remove those bloody people from the web.
Adi`s Cook & Book is a good place to get to know people. Outside the web. I dare say outside reality. It`s a place where Wonderland meets Skara Bar but in a good way. It`s relaxed and high-brow. It juggles with absolute utopia and the sketches of the city. Somewhat exceptional. The bathroom notes say:

Find a man who can make you laugh.

Find a man with a good job and one who can cook.

Find a man who is honest.

Find a man who can give you presents.

Find a man who is good in bed.

Make sure the five never meet. Oh well...

I saw a house being demolished, possibly with the intention to be rebuilt. I saw the bricks getting bitten off by the machine. Planes were flying above me, their overwhelming purr deafening my thoughts. A conspicupus woman asked for a fag. Told her I was smoking the last one. A genuine lie. I had three more. I ate fusili in the Go Pasta shop, read Still-life with Woodpecker and listened to French chansons while eating. It was like talking to a mirror - you know what you are doing but you find it mesmerising.

Monday, June 27, 2011

I got green mint on my tongue, babe, just like I got you on my mind. Sticky and sweet. Alcohol drives me linguistic, spins me around an imaginary you, I sway like a stripper, holding my heart between my legs. Alcohol enhances work efficiency, improves metabolism and develops melanoma of multiplied ecstasies, let us two die from the cries of the cells longing for multiplication. We are the devices of our own instincts, we are bright green, mint-fresh tools for love-making. We do what we have to. We embarrass younger couples. We look down on love cliches. We are one. We call ourselves together, one word meaning two. I shift your gear, babe, you shift my skirt. So we begin...

Sunday, April 10, 2011

She left her knickers just before courage left her. The middle of nowhere was an indefinite place, sombre and sticky, owls were hooting. She was standing there, the omnicient cigarette in her bony fingers dying slowly. She had forgotten to smoke. Her naked body looked like a violin string or more like a candle againts the moonlight.

I had never thought I would see her naked in the wild. I had just fucked the most beautiful girl in the world, a few days after I had had business brunch with her.

Monna`s hair was damp with sweat and it embraced her cheeks like a cobweb. We had our first sex in a godforsaken place, somewhere off-road, somewhere non-exquisite, almost non-existent. It was obvious we had to hide. We didn`t need trouble in our lives. She was, after all, in a relationship; she claimed it was a happy one.

After a few business dinners we grew closer. I started texting her, I started "coming across her" ever more often until I reached the state when I found sexual relief neither in porn, nor in girls.

That night I asked to drive her home. She did not object. She didn`t say much in the car, her eyes were more interested in the road. I can`t say I was relaxed. Her body fragrance attracted me like a moth to a flame. Musky it was, sweet and striking, somewhat animalistic. She mentioned she needed to get some fresh air so could I , please, take my time. Where do you wanna go? Nowhere, just drive. I could tell something had pissed her off OR she was a bloody good actress. She then put her small palm on the gear lever and I put the car to a halt without even noticing it. Next thing I knew was her pale face coming towards me and her lips brushing mine. We stared at each other for a few seconds, or more like a few eternities. The fullness of her mouth was all mine now, I could feel it, only I didn`t want to violate it so soon. I waited, then she waited, then we sank.

In a cat-like movement of her slender figure she ended up in my lap. My hands responded quickly and grabbed her derriere, which felt perfect. She started writhing convulsively and it was like a trigger to my own turn-on. The silk blouse she was wearing was soon unbuttoned reavealing the milky skin of her breasts. I couldn`t help it, couldn`t take it, so I stood still till I could get a grip. She ran her fingers through my hair and drew my head straight into her bloody heart. I saw her pink nipples gazing at me in a sort of kaleidoscopic manner, I was tempted, I squeezed them between my thumb and index, then served them into my mouth. I was certain her breasts emitted nirvana.

She unzipped my pants and put her hand on me. She remained like this for a short while, then gave a sigh.

Help me get rid of this.

We peeled my trousers down my legs so the only thing that kept her away from me was my underwear. Her back was so straight I was sure she was all high voltage. She bent slowly towards me, gave me a taste of her tongue and folded my penis with her hands. She spread her legs as much as the space in the car allowed it and then closed her pink (sure it was pink) walls tight around me. We started moving impatiently, back and forth, back and forth, and for the first time I felt I was losing it. She was so independent, she didn`t need any encouragement, she had the freedom of a person who had nothing to lose. She filled her body with air and then lit fires with it. I could sense her strength and was wondering how her depths could be so welcoming and so indifferent at the same time.

She grabbed my shoulders and speeded up. I couldn`t take my eyes off her, it was impossible, she had to be looked at. Her red hair was like a beacon. We were both breathing like we were fighting for our lives. A few minutes later she started squirming and the moment she held her breath I knew she had come. A short cry followed. Her wet body glistned as she was trying to relax her lungs and the contractions of her uterus. I felt I couldn`t hold it any more so I took my penis out of her and came, reluctantly, in my own palm.

She got a hankie out of her bag and gave it to me. Ever so naked she jumped out of the car and lit a cigarette. Her knickers were long forgotten, a small ball in her feet. It was freezing outside, but she was steaming hot.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Dannie wrote a beautiful review of Biutiful. I can`t help crying while reading it. I cried again a bit later when I realised someone I knew had died. Then I cried again for the sake of crying.

Been indifferent for so long. I just don`t care and the thought is devastating. It`s good to care for things and people every now and again. Try listening to Adele`s songs and wathching them at the same time. You will cry, I promise. But I`m indifferent to my own life, I cannot empathise with it. The crucial skill of being compassionate must start somewhere deep inside where you actually feel for yourself. The goddamned passion is missing.